Lonely and Disillusioned
by Lauren94
Summary: What happens to Tori and Simon when Chloe and Derek get off the bus? Is Simon the boy Tori thought he was? How does Simon cope with the doubt seeping into his thoughts? And how will these two survive each other's company? Give it a chance :
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I've been forgetting these lately… But I doubt that anyone is under the disillusion that I own anything. But to clarify, sadly, I don't. Own anything that is…. I know, not even Derek. How heartbreaking.

So, this is a new story and I've been toying with this idea for a while, ever since Kelley first revealed her plans to write _Disenchanted _(the new short story). The bimonthly updates are too spanned out for my liking, so this is my take on what happens when Derek and Chloe get off the bus. It might switch POV's, it might not. We'll see.

Thanks for reading! :)

_Replaced and Disillusioned_

_TPOV_

I was awoken yet again, for the second time in the hour-_may I add_-by a hand shaking my shoulder. _Grrr…_

"What?" I mumbled, attempting to curl myself more tightly against the window.

"Tori," Simon said, sounding exasperated and anxious. He continued to shake my shoulder. "Tori, _wake up." _And then I felt a shock in my shoulder. The bastard had zapped me!

"What?" I snapped, pushing his hand away and sitting up.

He stumbled, but righted himself just as quickly and moved his hand out of sight, trying futilely to discreetly massage the hand I had pushed away.

"Chloe and Derek are gone." he said anxiously, panic sweeping over his features.

One thing I had begun to notice about Simon was that he was a bit impulsive and illogical. He seemed to get swept up in the moment rather than think things through and come up with rational explanations. I mean, what did he think? That someone had kidnapped Wolf Boy and the China doll? First, who would _want_ to-let alone, be _capable_ of-taking Mr. Hulking, Pimply and Intimidating? Second, did he really think that someone would even be able take a step with Chloe with Derek watching over her?

God, it was so sickening. Simon drooling all over her was enough. Now Derek, too? Simon might be blissfully ignorant and Chloe painfully oblivious. Derek himself might not even be aware of it. But I saw it. I saw the way he watched over her.

"I know." I said slowly, hopping that he wasn't just a pretty face. His eyes practically bugged out of their sockets as soon as the words left my mouth. He hastily took the vacant seat beside me and turned his body towards mine.

"What do you mean '_you know'_? What are you talking about? Where did they go?" he asked these questions with amazing speed. I rolled my eyes, tired of all the sympathy they were getting. They weren't stupid; they would be able to take care of themselves for a day.

"Chloe woke me up about an hour ago, at the last rest stop. She said something about Derek changing again and needing to be with him or him needing her there. Something like that." A look of hurt flashed across his face before he composed himself.

"Oh," he said, quietly, almost as if saying it to himself. "Well, we should get off at the next stop then. We'll go back and find them and then we can all go to Andrew's?"

"With what money, Simon?" My patience was starting to wear thing and some of my annoyance seeped into my voice. "It's not like we have unlimited resources. We can't afford to get off the bus, get two more tickets to head in the opposite direction, and then get another four to continue the trip we were originally on. Plus, Chloe said they'd meet us at Andrew's. We have no way of contacting them, so it would impractical of us to go blindly looking for them."

"It was just a suggestion," he said defensively.

"Well it was a bad one," I snapped.

"I don't hear you coming up with any ideas," he shot back.

"God, Simon!" I said exasperatedly, throwing my hands up into the air. "They're perfectly capable of looking after themselves for twenty-four hours. We'll just go to Andrew's and wait for them to get there."

His eyes narrowed at my tone and he made a big show of huffing out a breath and slamming his back into the seat, his intent to pointedly ignore me.

Whatever. Two could play at that game.

So what he didn't want to talk to me? So what he didn't want to be stuck with me? So what he thought-and pointed out-that I was a bitch? So what? He obviously didn't care and neither should I. Neither _would _I. I leaned my head against the window and I unwillingly let my thoughts wander…

It was honestly sickening how pathetic both Derek and Simon-though, especially Simon-were. I mean, one look at her petite, blonde frame and one bat of those big, blue eyes, had Simon smitten. He honestly did whatever he could to talk to her. To be near her. Make her smile. I mean, in theory, it was sweet. But once witness to it, you can see how it makes him look like he's in need of some balls.

The one thing I'll give Chloe is that she is truly ignorant. She isn't like Kristen, who pretends to be unconscious of the effect she has on people, yet, all the while, is calculating and scheming; trying to figure out what next she can make people to do for her. My sister disgusts me more than all of this combined. The way she feigned helplessness, the way my mother showed an obvious preference for her and she rubbed it in, the way she always seemed to be the one people wanted, people thought of.

Simon would probably like her, too. He would like her because she wasn't like me. She was bitchy, she wasn't independent, she was stupid, and she was weak. But, at then end of the day, it wouldn't matter. Because she was the opposite of me, the one people seemed to prefer. And most importantly, she was normal, something I knew, _definitely, _I was not.

Closing my eyes, I pressed my head harder against the window, pushing everything away and welcoming the oblivion brought on by sleep.

_SPOV_

I sat, trying to finish a drawing of Chloe, but I couldn't. I couldn't concentrate for the life of me. My mind was racing. I was worried, preoccupied.

I was worried about their general well being, yes. I hoped Derek would be okay, that his Change would go smoothly. It wasn't at the forefront of my thoughts, though. They were both smart. They wouldn't have a problem figuring out how to get to Andrew's and Derek was more than capable of taking care of the both of them. Plus, with Chloe in the mix, he'd make sure to do just that.

But, as much as I hated to admit it, I wasn't just worried about them having to fend for themselves. I was angry-frustrated-and hurt. Why did Chloe tell Tori and not me? Why did Derek wake her up and ask her to go with him? Why did he want her there instead of me? Or did she insist on going? And if she did, was it only because she was that good a person? Or was there more to it?

I knew it was silly to think that something might happen between Derek and Chloe, but it was a feeling I couldn't shake. Even though Derek could care less about such frivolities, Chloe seemed to be responding well to my flirting, and they both couldn't go a day without bickering, I couldn't help but notice the slight shift in their relationship.

It had started after the incident in the crawl space, and while I had thought it had gone away after we met up with Chloe and Tori, it was coming to light again. Sometimes I thought I was imagining things because these observations were so slight, so insignificant, that I didn't even think either of them had noticed. But at other times, I was sure there was something there, a sort of alteration of the vibe. The way Chloe seemed only to, at times, speak directly to Derek, as if looking to him for council. The way Derek's eyes seemed to almost imperceptibly follow her every move. And sometimes, it was just a feeling I had, something I couldn't encompass or explain with words.

Shaking my head, I tried to sweep away the ludicrousness of my thoughts, coming to the conclusion that days on the run had done wacky things to my mind. Giving up on completing a semblance of a decent drawing, I put my sketchbook away and closed my eyes, welcoming sleep.

**R&R :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: So my birthday is coming up. If I wish hard enough, do you think I'll finally own Darkest Powers? …Yeah, I didn't either :p

Thanks to anyone who's reading and to anyone reviewing-it's encouraging.

_Walk to Hell-I mean Andrew's_

_SPOV_

"Tori!" I shouted, pounding on the bathroom door. "You can only do so much in a public bathroom! The bus is going to leave if you don't hurry your ass up! God, you're so-" I was cut off as the door suddenly flew open, smacking me in the head to reveal a smirking Tori.

"Finally," I muttered.

"What?" she demanded. "Have you finally realized that you need my help? Well, too bad. You made it perfectly clear that you didn't want before so now you have to be a big boy and deal with the consequences of your actions."

She was still angry and her eyes were red, not as if she had been crying, but as if she had rubbed them frequently in the past five minutes. I wanted to be big about this. I _really_ did. I wanted to be able to look past the front Tori put up and acknowledge that she was the way she was for a reason. But she made that _so damn hard._ Choosing to go down that path, I said instead, "Like I said. The bus is going to leave if you-" my voice trailed off as I saw her eyes widen in what could only be described as panic. I spun around just in time to see the bus pulling out of the parking lot and back onto the road.

My eyes were still fixated on the spot where the bus had been when Tori shouldered past me-hard-and said accusingly, "This is all your fault."

I took off after her and stepped in front of her, cutting her off. It was odd; I wasn't that tall-only 5'7-but I was still taller than most girls. Tori, however was my height, almost exactly, and we seem to be built quite similarly as well. I did my best to stand my ground under the circumstances.

"My fault? How is this my fault? You're the one who disappeared into the bathroom doing God knows what. If you had gone before instead of bothering me, we'd be on that bus and not stranded."

"Ha," she barked, "God Simon, when will you learn to take responsibility? This is _your _fault. If you had been big enough to admit that you needed help as opposed to getting all defensive and macho, you wouldn't have spent fifteen minutes unproductively and we'd be on that bus."

I didn't want it. I fought against it. But, in retrospect, she had a point.

* * *

"Simon," Tori shouted, walking into the forest that lined the truck stop we were currently at. I swore under my breath, my concentration broken, the chance of the locating spell working disappearing like Chloe and Derek.

I sighed and stopped pacing. "What do you want?"

Ignoring the question, she said, "Have you made any progress?"

As dignifiedly as possible I replied, "Not really. I thought I had something a couple of minutes ago, but then-"

She cut off my rambling, "I could help."

"What?"

"I. Could. Help." She said slowly, clearly enunciating every word. I rolled my eyes and she narrowed hers.

"I heard you the first time. I don't think you could help, though. You don't know the incantation and frankly, you've known about your powers for what? A week? They're probably unreliable. I've been practicing this spell for months and it's still tricky and I'm more experienced than you."

At first, she looked outraged, like my words had somehow offended her. She opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it at the last minute, deciding to stay silent-a first and probably a last. Her expression took on a calculating look before unveiling a hint of indecision, as if she was unsure about something.

She took a deep breath and said, "Look Simon, I'm not going to beat around the bush. I've seen what you can do. I know what I can do. I could help. Trust me. Just teach me the spell. We'll never know until we try and since you're obviously not making any progress, it would only be beneficial if you had a second person helping out."

What she was saying was reasonable. That much I could admit. But, right now, it didn't matter. I didn't know if it was because she had referred to us as a _we_ and it was undeniable that we were, for the moment, just that, or if it was because she had tacitly implied that I wasn't the greatest spellcaster, but I just couldn't take her any longer.

"Tori, you won't be able to help. And you're not doing anything by standing here, wasting my time and breaking my concentration." I snapped.

Something flashed in her eyes, a distant memory, before she pushed it down. I was agitated and something happened: I gave her a _small_ mental shove. No incantation, purely induced by adrenaline or pure mind power. She stumbled back and her eyes flashed. Next thing I knew, I was flying through the air and landed solidly on the ground. Her fists were clenching and unclenching rhythmically and her fingers were glowing dangerously.

"What the hell?" I roared, partly in anger and indignation and partly in fear. She was a witch, not a spellcaster. Witches do binding, we do knock-backs. She should_ not _be able to do what she just did.

"Watch it, Simon," she warned, her voice low.

"Or what? Are you going to bound and gag me next?" Her eyes widened and without another word she spun around and walked to the bathroom, leaving me to feel like a failure and an asshole.

* * *

"What are we going to do now?" she demanded.

"We'll just buy two more tickets and wait for the next bus." She looked as if she was seriously questioning my intelligence.

"Was there a money tree in that forest that I don't know about?"

"What's your point?"

"My point is that we need to think this through. Like I said before, our resources aren't unlimited. Who knows if we'll even find your friend and if we do, we don't know if he'd be willing to help us," I was about to protest when she held up her hand. "We don't know how much longer we'll be on the run and we still have Chloe and Dog Boy to think about. We need to be smart about how we spend our money."

I couldn't believe that she was actually thinking about someone other than herself, but she misinterpreted my look and snapped, "I'm not stupid."

I rolled my eyes. "I never said you were."

"Good."

"Fine."

"Way to be a big boy."

And we were back at square one. I couldn't seem to help but always want to strangle Tori.

I crossed my arms and said, "So what's the plan?"

"Seeing as how you made us miss the bus, why don't you think of that?"

I dug my nails into my palms. "We don't have a lot of money to spend and we don't have any other means of transportation."

"Evidently."

"I guess we have to walk," I concluded, rubbing the sudden onslaught of tension out of my neck as I thought of walking all the way to Andrew's. With Tori.

"Of course," she muttered. She brushed past me and walked into the mini mart. I followed and we silently picked out what we needed to refuel. Right before reaching the cash, she grabbed a map of New York from a nearby stand.

As the guy behind the counter was ringing up her things and staring at her boobs, she opened the map and quickly scanned it.

"How long will it take for us to walk here?" she asked, pointing to a spot that I guessed was near Andrew's house.

"About two and a half, three hours. But why walk? If you wait around for a couple of hours, I could take you there," he drawled.

I wanted to vomit for multiple reasons. First, he was so pedophilic. And second, why would he be hitting on Tori? If he had been younger-_significantly _younger-I would have warned him that that was a road he did not want to go down.

"In your dreams, pervert." She retorted, grabbing her bag and marching out of the store. I quickly paid for my stuff and hurried out after her.

_TPOV_

"You like Oreos and peanut butter?" Simon asked disbelievingly, as he saw me reach into my bag and pull out the mini container of peanut butter I had bought. People thought it was weird, I knew that, but I was getting tired of the sound of Simon's voice. I was tired of this misadventure in general, but Simon was here and so he would be the target.

"Is that a problem?"

His eyebrows scrunched together in a rather cute way, but I quickly pushed that thought aside. Yes, Simon was attractive. But that didn't matter. There were a lot of attractive people in the world. And a lot of people with the same qualities he has. He's just not the person I'd look for them in anymore. I mean, I have self-respect, if nothing else. What kind of young woman would I be if I continued to pine after a guy who made his disinterest in and dislike of me frequently known? Plus, Simon was kind of… young, I guess, would be the right word. It just took me to be off the meds to realize it.

"I love peanut butter and Oreos." He said, his tone implying that he couldn't believe we had something in common and that, because we did, I wasn't supposed to like it anymore.

I ignored him, choosing instead to enjoy my snack, the one guilty pleasure I allowed myself.

Every few seconds, he shot glances at me.

"What?" I finally demanded, exasperated.

"Aren't you going to offer me one?"

"Gee Simon, let me think. No? Do you think I want you to go into a diabetic coma?"

"Listen Mom, I don't want that either. It's all about moderation. I know what I can and can't have. And I can have a cookie." He held my gaze for a few moments before I relented and passed the bag over to him. It wouldn't be my fault if his blood sugar went skyrocketing. I tried to warn him. He took three cookies out of the bag and shushed me when I tried to protest.

"Derek never lets me have these. Please let me enjoy them in peace." He said with his eyes closed. I rolled mine and sighed. When he was done chewing, I asked him what I thought was funny but I knew would just bother him.

"Don't you find the irony comical?"

"What irony?" he asked hesitantly.

"The fact that Dog Boy has you on such a short leach?"

"Tori!" he exclaimed.

Using the fact that he was at a loss of words-for once-I snatched my bag away from him and continued on the way.

**R&R :)**


	3. Chapter 3

So I've finally gotten back to it. For anyone who had been following this story, I apologize for the terrible lack of accountability. Thank you to_Silverbird121_ for giving me the final push needed to start writing this again.

Disclaimer: I have not disillusioned myself into thinking I own anything :p If you're read Disenchanted, you'll even recognize some of the dialogue.

TPOV

"Are we still not talking," Simon asked after what could have only been half an hour. I sighed loudly and looked over at him.

"Yes, we're still not talking," I said, shutting him down.

The longer I spent with him the more I wondered what the hell I had been thinking. Simon reminded me more and more of a little boy—slightly restless and a little erratic. Not to mention that every time we started having a conversation, it ended in a fight. It had gotten to the point where I was getting a headache and I had no Tylenol and at least another two hours with him, so I put an end to our talking.

We just couldn't seem to agree on anything. Our latest argument had been about art. Could digital art and computer manipulation be considered as real art? He narrow-mindedly and stubbornly said no while I whole-heartedly disagreed. We started fighting and threw a couple of insults back and forth before I angrily started walking ahead, vindictively grabbing my water bottle from his hands in the process.

I thought that Simon fought with me because he needed a way to vent his frustration, an outlet to concentrate his irritation on, and I was the only one in sight, but I can't help but resent it. And just because I can understand why, doesn't mean I have to accept it. He would never pull stunts like this with Derek because he wouldn't want to be difficult and he's always trying to act as mature. And there's no question of him ever acting this way with Chloe because God help us if anyone doesn't reciprocate the angel's perfect disposition.

However bitter I may sound, I don't dislike Chloe. I don't particularly like her, but she's not someone I would wish harm on. I also knew how that sounded considering, as Simon had so consolingly pointed out, I _had _lured into a crawl space, but it was true. I hadn't been in my right mind when I had done it, either. I honestly felt that it was a combination of the stress and despair I had been feeling and the unnecessary medication. I was angry at my mother and worried about Liz and like Simon, I projected those feelings onto the one person I could, who just happened to be Chloe. But aside from my _temporary_ mental break, I did _not_ hate her enough to want her gone—permanently. Objectively speaking, I can see why everyone instantly has an affinity for Chloe. I mean, on top of looking like a pretty, porcelain doll—even with the terrible black hair—she screams sincerity. She genuinely seems like a nice person. But she's been sheltered her whole life, privileged, and while I can see that she tries to hide it, there are times where she slips and her naivety shows. Naivety may not even be the word; innocence perhaps—she still holds out hope that things actually aren't as bad as they are, which makes her ever optimistic. That combined with the looks makes me irate, just so angry and flippant. I stand by the fact that I don't hate Chloe, but she _represents_ everything I do hate, and separating the two, at least for now, has proven difficult.

Interrupting my thoughts, Simon said, "I'm sorry."

He was saying it because he couldn't stand the silence, but whatever. You have to take what you can get.

"You said that the last time."

"It won't happen again," he replied quickly.

"Are you incapable of not talking," I questioned, genuinely wondering what his answer would be.

"Probably," he said flashing me a quick grin.

I rolled my eyes, refusing to let my smile slip, but he persisted. "Ah, c'mon, Tori. Are you actually going to try and tell me you'd rather not talk for the next hour and a half as opposed to passing the time with conversation?"

"We're not talking," I said and then, he did it. The asshole played a card that made me feel immediately panicked—I'm not completely unfeeling—and sucked me into having a stupid conversation with him.

"I know we have some food, but I don't know how much longer it'll _really _take to get to Andrew's and even then, he may have moved or he might not be home. And then we still have to wait for Chloe and Derek."

"Your point," I asked grudgingly.

"We have to be smart, Tori. We can't stuff our faces at the first indication of hunger. But whenever my blood sugar starts to get low, I start having trouble paying attention—I even get dizzy sometimes—and talking usually helps."

I said nothing and he went on, "And all I'm saying is that if I slip into a coma, I don't want you to feel like you could have maybe put it off or prevented it had you talked to me."

He looked like the picture of innocence and I wanted to strangle him. Simon did not want sympathy—he tried to hide his diabetes from us for as long as he could. And his story was so melodramatic it was almost laughable. But it had nonetheless worried me.

"You're terrible," I said, hoping he knew how wholeheartedly I thought so at the moment.

"Can I take that as a sign of us talking?"

I gave him a look. '_Don't push it,' _it said and he hurried on.

"So, what do you think Derek and Chloe are doing now?"

I rolled my eyes—always Derek and Chloe.

"I don't know. They can't be any worse off than us."

"You can't know that for sure," he countered indignantly.

"Neither can you. Honestly, Simon, I'm sure, if anything and out of anyone, Derek can handle it. Stop being so paranoid."

"Do you consciously make an effort to be unsympathetic," he asked irritatedly.

Eyes narrowed, I said, "I just think it's wasteful to spend so much time consumed with thoughts about what _could_ happen. That's such a counterfactual. All you and Derek do is spend time worrying about each other and fretting over Chloe, even when nothing is going awry."

He snorted. "Thank God we worry about Chloe," he said quietly.

"What is that supposed to mean," I asked heatedly.

"You know what it means. Tori, I hate to break it to you, but we're on the run. Even when nothing is going wrong at the moment, there is a constant chance that in a second, something could. So we need to be prepared. Forgive us for worrying about when that time could come. And yeah, thank God we're concerned about Chloe, considering you're not."

My hands felt hot and my vision seemed to narrow.

"How dare you," I said, tone acidic.

"Are you trying to deny it? Are you forgetting about your encounter with those street girls? You ran and didn't look back. You were only worried about yourself."

"It's called self-preservation! It's an instinct," I exclaimed, voice rising.

"Chloe would have looked back," he replied calmly, which made me even angrier.

"Obviously. I forgot, Chloe's perfect," I snapped.

"No," he said, sounding as if he were talking to a child, "Chloe is just like that. But she also knows that _we_ are all she has right now, all she can rely on. We're a team. We have to be concerned about one another, to be loyal and willing to fight for each other. And you, Tori, aren't fighting with us; you're fighting against us. You're going against the grain, purposefully it seems sometimes. No one forced you to be here. You chose to stay with us. And yet you act as if being with us is the worst thing in the world and when we don't kiss your feet, you get pissy and immediately chalk it up to the fact that we're all against you even though you've made it perfectly clear that you don't like us. You can't expect us to treat you like royalty when you treat us like the scum of the earth. And you wonder why we fight all the time," he exclaimed. "You make digs without expecting something in return. You fight because you want to, which again, is a sure way to prevent any sort of integration or cooperation. So all I'm saying is yes Tori, I worry because I care. Sorry if you can't understand that concept."

I laughed. "God Simon, that was a fine example of hypocrisy. You just finished saying that none of you are against me and then you make a dig about me being a cold-hearted bitch. Sorry I'm not jumping in head first to be part of your little gang of misfits. I don't want to be here. Is that a crime? Neither do you, so stop acting so self-righteous." I said, focusing on the faults in his reasoning I _could _justify, the points I could defend myself against.

"No, I don't want to be here. But I'm trying to make the best of the situation, unlike you who has to remind us everyday about how little progress we've made or the staggering odds against us. If you don't want to be here, then what's keeping you? Why haven't you left yet," he challenged.

Because I had nowhere to go. He knew that and he was using it as ammunition to make a point.

"Only you would Simon. I seemed to have had a lapse in memory and forgot that you hate me so much that you want me to go running back to the sociopathic bitch who's trying to kill us," I said cheerfully.

He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Why do you always twist my words? I never said I hated you."

I huffed out an incredulous breath and said, "You sure as hell don't like me."

"No, I don't. When I first met you at Lyle House, I liked you well enough. But I let you know I wasn't interested in you as a girlfriend. I tried to do it nicely. It was nothing personal—I had too much else on my mind to think about girls—and I didn't want to hurt your feelings. But you wouldn't stop. Then Chloe came along and I paid attention to her because I thought she needed a friend, and you went nuts. You locked her in a basement crawlspace. Tied up and gagged."

He had to bring it up again. Was I that terrible that he thought I was psychotic and truly unremorseful?

"I'd have gone back for her." And I would have. I was planning on it. I would _never _have left her there despite what they all seem to think.

"So that makes it okay? The only thing that made it even slightly okay was thinking you were mentally ill. That it wasn't your fault. Only you weren't."

"I was on meds."

He sighed and shook his head.

"What? I was. And I was stressed out."

"So it's not your fault. No reason to take responsibility. Sure as hell no reason to apologize. Because you apparently can do no wrong. And even when you do, well, it's not your mistake so blame someone else for it."

I said nothing and he sighed and for once, we walked on in uninterrupted silence. I wanted to tell him off, to put him in his place. But I couldn't. The familiarity of his words resonated within me, shook me to my core. They took me back to Lyle House, back to my life before it, when my mother's snide, contemptuous voice used to say those exact words.

**So? Have I gotten rusty with them? R&R please :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you all readers and reviewers :) This story isn't as much of a hit, but your support is just as appreciated. This is the final chapter, so enjoy and thank you for reading and sticking with me through my hiatus :)

_SPOV_

We were almost at Andrew's; we had just passed the sign that designated the town limits and his house was only about a mile away now.

I shared this information with Tori, who simply ignored me—the only indication of what I had said registering in her mind was that her stride seemed to be restored with purpose. I sighed quietly and continued walking.

I didn't mean to be an asshole. I didn't mean for what I said to come off as a verbal attack. But Tori was defensive and she seemed to bring out the worst in me—whenever we got into it, I just couldn't seem to stop. In retrospect, I always regretted what I said. I didn't want to hurt her; I didn't want us to fight all the time. But with that in mind, I couldn't help but regard the other side of things. I wasn't always the one who started out fights; she played a part too, even paved the way for one sometimes, what with her constant stream of insults and snide remarks. Not to mention that she needed to be put in her place. We all had to be on the same page, we were all playing for the same team—_our _team—and her attitude hindered that. She wasn't a princess; she needed to take responsibility when she screwed up just like the rest of us.

On one hand, I wanted to apologize again and explain myself, to make what I had originally been trying to say clear. On the other hand though, I didn't think I needed to apologize. She was just as guilty as I was and as the saying goes, if you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen. But just thinking that made me feel like an ass, so I resigned myself to let Tori brood for a bit longer before once again trying to make amends.

_TPOV_

Honestly, whoever this Andrew was, he had the longest driveway _ever. _I mean, it was smart if you didn't want anyone disturbing you. I'd bet that girl guides took one look at it before turning away to find an easier target to harass.

Simon had said it was about a ten minute walk before we'd get to the house and I could tell that he didn't expect any type of response.

While I hoped he felt bad, I couldn't push away the nagging voice in the back of my head that said he was right, that he had a point. Sure, I didn't particularly _want_ to be with them, to participate in another string of misadventures, but what choice did I have? _Who else_ did I have? No one and I realized that I had to stop acting like I did—have someone that is.

The house—small stone cottage is more like it—came into view and I blew out a breath of relief. I had never known that the possibility of a bed or running water or even a bathroom that wasn't public could ever seem so amazing, so appealing.

When we reached the door, my mind barely registered that it was slightly ajar and I reached to push it open, eager to get inside. But Simon noticed, and he stepped in front of me, completely blocking my path.

"What the he—"

"Shh," he snapped in a whisper. The line of his shoulders was tense and I could hear poorly concealed panic, which kept me from responding.

Turning slowly to face me, he said, "Tori, I have a bad feeling about this. We'll go in, but we have to stay together." His eyes were sober, gone was the amusement that always seemed to be there, even in times of stress.

I nodded and he held my gaze for a moment longer before opening the door gradually. We were welcomed by darkness and I immediately understood Simon's feeling of apprehension. It was _too _quiet—things felt oddly undisturbed.

He stepped through silently and I followed. When I tried to pass him, he grabbed me by the back of my jacket, glaring, and pulled me back behind him. I wrenched myself free from his grasp and stood firmly beside him, tacitly daring him to challenge me. He rolled his eyes and we continued on, side by side.

"Andrew," he called tentatively, as if hoping for something—for what, I didn't know.

As we walked through the house, turning on lights as we went, Simon called out a few more times before quieting. When we got into the kitchen, a half eaten piece of toast sitting on the table and the last room we had to look through, Simon leaned against the door framed and ran his hands over his face, as if he was trying to readjust his vision, like, if he tried hard enough, when he opened his eyes, the scene in front of him would be changed.

Finally, he muttered a curse.

"What," I asked, no longer able to hold my tongue, wondering what had provoked such a reaction from him. I mean, the state of the house _was _unusual, but I didn't know Andrew—who knew what kind of person he was.

"This is exactly what happened when our dad disappeared. Everything's the same. It's as if one moment he was here, going about his business, and the next, he was gone without a trace, almost as vanishing into thin air."

"Are you saying he was taken," I asked, point blank.

He looked uncertain, as if he didn't want to give me a definitive answer, but his lack of responsiveness spoke volumes.

"If he was taken, then we're not safe. We can't stay here," I reasoned.

"We can't go on without Derek and Chloe—it's not like we have any way to contact them and tell them about the sudden change of plans," he countered.

On any other day, I would have rolled my eyes. But today, he had a valid point and I couldn't argue.

He furrowed his brow for a moment before his eyes seemed to clear, however briefly.

"Andrew has a pool house out in the back. We'll check the fridge for food and bring it out there. You do that, I'll leave a note for Chloe and Derek."

We had retreated to the pool house, a lovely small, dim and damp place. We ate in silence—I was too tired to speak and Simon seemed preoccupied. As soon as he was done, he jumped to his feet, which had previously been engaged in tapping an irregular rhythm.

"I'm going to look around the house. Check the surrounding area and stuff like that. Do—" he hesitated for a moment before continuing, "Are you coming? Or do you want to stay here?"

"Do you not have any worries about leaving me alone, defenseless," I demanded. He sounded like he wanted some alone time—he wasn't the only one—but this was another example of how he made me feel unwelcome, like a nuisance. Five minutes ago, he didn't want me walking into a room alone and now he's willing to leave me in a pool house surrounded by thick woods and belonging to a man that was recently kidnapped?

He snorted, "From what I've seen, you're not defenseless."

"It's the principle."

"I asked if you were coming," he said, thoroughly exasperated.

I said nothing, only gazed at him with narrowed eyes, and he sighed. "Well," he prompted.

"I'm staying here. I don't want to go traipsing around the forest in the dark. I doubt Derek will be running around out there, so have fun."

His eyes sparked and he opened his mouth before he used his little brain, thought better of it, closed it and turned without a word, stalking out the door.

I watched it as it swung shut solidly before turning around and lying down on the inflatable raft that had, conveniently, never been deflated, willing sleep to overcome me, praying my slumber would be dreamless and deep, erasing everything if only for a little while.

_SPOV_

I walked once around the house, then once around the edge of the property before finally taking the familiar beaten path to the clearing we all used to camp out at when we were younger.

Thinking about that made me think of Derek, and everything that came with thinking of Derek was unavoidable, like a domino effect.

I was worried about them, about him and Chloe. Tori was right—I'd give her that—_Derek _could take care of anybody and he'd make sure to take care of himself with Chloe in the mix. Regardless, I was still worried. But I wasn't just worried _about_ them, I was worried about_ them_.

Chloe and Derek had an odd relationship, like a constant push and pull. He was always on her about something—half the time I didn't even know why he was upset at her—but she never missed a beat. She wouldn't take it—whatever he dished out, she reciprocated. She did not let him get away with his bullshit, and that had been hardest to swallow at first. I mean, no one—besides dad and me—stood up to Derek, challenged him or questioned him. And even for us, there was never any real need to because for one, we didn't have anything to argue about, and for another, when we did, it was mostly about Derek being Derek. But those times had passed and dad and I had grown resigned to the fact that he was who he was. Chloe didn't know that, though. She was new to Derek, hadn't even trusted him in the beginning, and she didn't want to be pushed around, used or manipulated. So she stood up to him. Seeing them argue was even stranger, if only because the sheer difference in physical build.

But they had soon come to an unspoken agreement—they both needed something from the other; Chloe wanted to get out and Derek wanted to get me out—so they dealt with each other. Then Tori locked Chloe in the crawl space and things started to change, so minutely, almost so insignificantly, that at times, I thought I was imagining it. If they didn't realize it—which I was completely certain they hadn't—then how could I? I wasn't completely oblivious though. I saw that after the incident, Derek's eyes would quickly search for Chloe when she was in the room, resting on her for a split second as if to reassure himself that she was okay. And Derek had become Chloe's confidant—she trusted him and it was he she went to when affronted with a problem, not me. I was kept in the loop, I always found out afterwards, but it was an odd feeling. I felt like an outsider looking in, like I was always one step behind them. Forgotten. Replaced.

After we got separated and then reunited though, things, I felt, had gone back to normal. They were either fighting or not talking. and I had once again become Chloe's comfort and friend to turn to. And things felt right that way, like they were as they should be. It was even kind of relieving. But I didn't know what to expect when they got back—their time together would either further distance them or bring them back together. And while the latter was the favorable alternative—if we were a team, we needed to get along—it was also the one I puzzlingly shied away from.

Sighing in frustration, I got up from the log I had sat down on and began to trek back to the pool house, hoping that when they did show up, they brought some clarity along with them.

**Final thoughts? Comments? R&R please :)**


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